


Magical Crushes and How to Handle Them

by TheSightlessSniper



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Comedy, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Harry Potter AU, I'm rapidly losing all will to finish writing this one, M/M, Mentions of Magical Misuse of Muggle Items, Mike and Harvey are first-years, OOC, Out of Character, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-04-14 18:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14141697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSightlessSniper/pseuds/TheSightlessSniper
Summary: Harvey Specter enters Hogwarts for his first year, and shares a dorm room with and befriends an extraordinarily minded individual.(In progress - be patient with me!)





	1. Sorting & Settling

**Author's Note:**

> I've had a bit of a rough emotional time recently. My thoughts haven't been very pleasant, tilting towards self-harm, and I've felt a bit emotionally wrung out from things that I thought I was dealing with well. As a result, I've been less inclined to write much of anything.
> 
> However, a few months ago, I began this, and recently I wrote a big chunk that I'm fairly happy with. So I decided that although I don't like posting things without them being finished first, I'd post this, because I feel like it's been ages since I posted anything.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

His father had been a Gryffindor. His mother had been a particularly clever, and surprisingly polite Slytherin. So when the sorting hat had been placed upon his head, Harvey had been incredibly nervous to get the result.

_Hmm. I see you’re a Specter. I remember your father’s sorting very well…but your mother was an interesting sort too…_

Harvey gulped.

_There’s a bit of this, and that, and a little more of that…I think I know where you’re best placed—_

‘GRYFFINDOR!’

The sigh of relief almost had him on the floor. Whatever house his mother had been in, he just hadn’t wanted to have been in the same one as her.

He was nothing like her.

Harvey took his place at the Gryffindor table, welcomed by a group of the first-years with smiles and bangs of excitement on the table. He wedged himself between two other boys, grinning and introducing himself briefly, before turning to where the Sorting Hat was putting another into their house.

There were two Ravenclaws in a row—a pretty girl with deep brown skin and an air of clever confidence, and a short, round boy with chubby cheeks that looked a little bit like a grumpy dog—before coming to another boy who looked even more nervous than he had been.

He could tell that the boy was a muggle-born; he looked nervous to even go near the Sorting Hat, let alone put it on his head. Professor McGonagall beckoned him forward with the hand holding the parchment full of names, and he hesitantly sat down on the stool, jumping as it was placed on his head.

One of the girls who had been sorted before him leaned over, nodding towards the boy being sorted. ’I was talking to a girl on the train. Apparently he can remember everything he reads,’ she whispered in a soft Irish lilt.

Harvey’s eyes were glued to the boy on the stool, watching as the hat’s brim split open—

‘GRYFFINDOR!’

The boy on the stool started, almost falling off, before regaining equilibrium and jumping to his feet. He smiled at McGonagall, nodding his head, before darting over to the cheering red table.

He ended up stopping a few seats away from Harvey, next to a pretty blonde girl. She smiled. ‘What did you think the hat was going to do to you, Mikey?’

‘I don’t know, Jenny. I’m still getting used to the whole idea of magic, and I didn’t know what was going on!’

As the next person was sorted, Harvey turned his head, glancing behind him at the new addition to their house and giving a wave. The other boy waved back, flashing a nervous grin and mouthing ‘hi’.

The odd wave of happiness that overtook him at that simple gesture remained with him through the entirety of the feast. He devoured a piled-up plate of chicken, potatoes, vegetables and gravy, and still had enough room for a bowl of spiced pumpkin strudel with cream at the end of it, before following the prefects and the other first-years up to the common room.

As they waited on one of the staircases for the prefect who had the password, he felt a gentle nudge to his arm, and turned to see the boy from the table stood beside him.

The boy smiled nervously. ’Hey.’

‘Hi…you’re name is Mikey, right?’

‘Well…Jenny always calls me Mikey, but I prefer just Mike.’

‘Okay. I’m Harvey—‘

‘Specter. I watched you get sorted. Do you have much magic in your family?’

He nodded. ‘Long line of it. And you?’

‘Muggle-born. My grandmother had no idea what to even say when she saw the letter.’

Harvey frowned curiously. ‘What about your parents?’

Mike’s face tensed, lips curling down. ‘Died in an accident. Earlier this year.’

Suddenly he felt like the biggest jerk. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up—’

‘It’s fine. It’s just still hard to talk about.’

‘If you don’t mind me asking…’

‘Car crash. Drunk driver.’ Mike’s head drooped, arms coming up around himself. ‘I wish they could see me here.’

He wasn’t sure what to do, but he tried; Harvey slid an arm around Mike’s shoulders and squeezed. ‘You want to see some cool stuff when we get up to the dormitory?’

  


He’d grown up with magic all around him. He’d learned to cast his first spell when he first started speaking, accidentally shooting sparks at the family cat and having it hiss angrily back at him for a week afterwards. He had been raised on the treats of Every-Flavour Beans, and pumpkin pasties, and liquorice wands, and collecting the cards from chocolate frogs for as long as he could remember.

He’d never seen someone so fascinated by everything around him before. Mike shuffled through the beans, picking out a blue one. ‘So every flavour?’

‘Every. I’ve had one that tasted like shampoo once.’

‘Eugh…hope I get something better.’ Mike chucked the bean in his mouth and chewed, face immediately contorting. ‘Maybe not…this tastes like a mouthful of the ocean.’

Harvey snickered as Mike spat out the remainder of the bean into a tissue and threw it into the bin between their beds. The dormitories had rooms ranging from ones that fit six to eight people, to ones which were single occupancy for the older students. Harvey and Mike had been put into one of the smaller ones, built for two people to share.

Mike had made himself comfortable, establishing that he didn’t have too many boundaries in terms of belongings; his tie was already strewn across Harvey’s four-poster bed, his shoes already kicked off somewhere between the two beds in a messy heap with the outer layer of his robes, and he had made himself comfortable in the middle of Harvey’s bedspread, liquorice wand hanging out of the side of his mouth to wash out the taste of the Every-Flavour Bean from before.

Harvey neatly folded his own robes and placed them on the window sill next to his bed, before sinking down opposite Mike on the bed.

The other glanced up from the chocolate frog card he was skimming the back of, pointing to the bed. ‘Sorry. Did you want to sleep?’

‘Not yet. So, do you have a pet yet? I was thinking about getting an owl or a cat.’

‘I thought about a cat, too, but I didn’t have the money when it came to buying one.’ He smiled sadly. ‘I had enough for everything else, though.’

‘Have you read about Quidditch yet?’

‘I know it’s a sport with a lot of balls, and two of them fly around trying to hit you. And there’s a small one that you need to catch to end the game. But I haven’t had the chance to read anything to do with it yet.’ His face tilted back down to the chocolate frog card, apparently fascinated by the movement of the tiny portrait.

Harvey’s smile returned. He watched Mike tilting the card, waving at the famous wizard on the card and grinning, and instantly felt butterflies.

He cleared his throat, shifting to sit next to Mike on the bed and nudged his shoulder. ’So, Gryffindors have potions first thing tomorrow morning. Do you want to head down there together after breakfast?’

‘Sure. I hope the breakfast food is as good at dinner. I feel like a stuffed turkey.’

‘Tell me about it—if that’s on offer every evening, I’m going to go home shaped like an oversized quaffle.’ Mike shot him a confused look. ‘The other ball in Quidditch.’

‘Oh…okay. Sounds like I could really do with a book on this game.’ The sentence ended with a yawn, Mike’s eyelids drooping a little. ‘I could also do with some sleep.’

Harvey watched Mike clamber off the bed, turning his head as the other began reaching for his bedclothes and stripping away his shirt and reached for his own pyjamas.

When the lights in the room went out, and he was lying down in bed, Harvey’s last thought of the night was about blue eyes, and blond messy hair.


	2. First Class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was best to add two chapters to start - the first one is a bit short, and a bit slow.
> 
> However this now leaves me with one less chapter in reserve. *sweats* Shit. Oh well.

Harvey had been worried about beginning potions from the moment he’d seen it as the first thing scheduled.

His father had been somewhat of a master with mixing potions; he’d had mere sips of a strangely coloured concoction that had fixed a broken arm in seconds after a fall from a training broom, and another which had made his eighth birthday a complete hit after it produced bubbles big and strong enough to bounce around the room in. But any time he had tried to teach Harvey to make something simple, it had ended up with clouds of smoke, and a foul-smelling elixir that had stunk out the kitchen for weeks on end.

So when Harvey saw that their first potion was one of the beginner ones he’d failed at, he gulped thickly.

Once the class had been paired up—as luck would have it, he was sat directly next to Mike—he turned to the other and nodded to the book. ‘I’m sorry if I ruin this.’

Mike threw him an amused glance. ‘I’m a muggle-born who hasn’t had the chance to read the text yet. Even if you’re awful, you’re probably going to be better than me at this.’

That wasn’t true though. Mike’s eyes flew over the lines of the potion, quickly adding up everything that he needed to put in and in what order. In a whole ten minutes under the deadline, between Harvey’s mild nudges towards the right ingredients, and Mike’s meticulous time-keeping, they had a potion that looked more like the teacher’s example potion than anyone else’s, including two slightly disgruntled but envious Ravenclaws whose potion was a rather interesting shade of purple and appeared to be singing off-key snippets of lullabies.

Mike left the class with twenty points to Gryffindor to his name on the first day, and Harvey left with the butterflies from the previous night feeling more like oversized moths burning their wings against a lit candle.

Mike excelled in almost every class they went to. From potions, he recognised all of the plants Professor Longbottom had demonstrated, and quickly earned another ten points to Gryffindor, and a filthy look from one of the grumpier Slytherins at the back of the room. In charms class, he was the one of the first three students to make the feather float more than an inch off the desk without blowing at it. Day by day, class by class, Mike proved that he was one of the most capable students who had entered the school since the much-talked-about Hermione Weasley nee Granger.

At the end of the last day of the first week, when dinner was done and they were about to head up to the Gryffindor common room, Mike pulled at Harvey’s sleeve. ‘It’s still early, and we don’t have to get up for classes tomorrow. Do you want to explore?’

They ended up sat on adjacent window sills in an empty classroom and staring out into the grounds, Mike with one leg dangling out of the window, and Harvey leaning both socked feet against the wall and skimming through his well-read copy of Quidditch Through The Ages.

Harvey let out a slow sigh. ’With how good you are at everything, I’m surprised you weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw. They’re meant to be the intelligent, imaginative, artistic house. You’re all of those things.’

Mike blushed, clearing his throat. ‘I did have time to read up on the houses before I came here. There’s a lot of history with the Slytherins being bad. Everyone was saying Hufflepuff is the house where all the average people go, but then Newt Scamander was a Hufflepuff. And Gryffindors are brave, but there was that one man…’

‘Peter Pettigrew. I don’t buy into the good-and-bad houses idea. My father’s best friend was a Slytherin because he was a prankster when he was younger, but he died in the fight against Voldemort.’ _Then again, my mother was a Slytherin…_ Harvey quickly changed the subject. ’Does your friend Jenny mind you hanging out with me?’

Mike chuckled. ‘She’s preoccupied with Trevor.’

‘Who’s Trevor?’

‘He’s our friend who came here at the same time as us. He got sorted into Slytherin, and she misses hanging out with him. I’m not sure I do.’

Harvey frowned. ’Why do you say that?’

‘He was mean to both of us when we were kids. But Jenny always had a crush on him anyway, and he has one on her. Neither of us knew he was a wizard until we got our acceptance letters and we told him.’

‘If he was mean to you, why did you start hanging out with each other?’

Mike shifted. ‘I don’t know. I used to have a crush on Jenny a long time ago, but I got over that. It’s not like I’m a threat to him. But he seemed to be nicer to Jenny, and then he was nicer to me by extension because he wanted to be in her good books.’ He huffed. ‘Hasn’t spoken to me yet.’

At Mike’s sad tone, Harvey hopped down from his window-sill and clambered up onto Mike’s, leaning on the opposite wall to face him with one leg dangling into the classroom in a mirror of Mike. He reached forward, placing a hand on the other’s shoulder. ‘If he doesn’t want to speak to you, then he isn’t worth it.’

Mike shrugged. ‘Maybe I’m not worth it.’

‘ _He’s_ not worth it,’ Harvey growled back. Mike glanced at him, startled by the aggression, but a slow smile spread across his cheeks, pink flushed cheeks returning.

The door to the classroom swung open, startling both of them. McGonagall stood in the door, head tilted. ‘Mr Specter, Mr Ross. It’s getting rather late. I would suggest you two return to your dormitories before one of the other professors catches you in here,’ she stated, tone firm but still friendly.

When they were back in their dormitory and changed into their nightclothes, Mike turned to him and gave him a hug, too quick for him to return.

The moths turned into hummingbirds.


	3. Curiosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the wait - I've been kind of ill recently, and I'm just about feeling better (even if I am still coughing and sneezing all over the place)!

Days of classes turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Before anyone could really register the change, Halloween was a mere two days away, and Harvey was miserably hunched over a roll of parchment, chewing on the end of a quill while giving his books a look of utter distaste. Professor Binns had requested a distinctly long (and Harvey argued useless) essay on the history of the lake that formed part of the Hogwarts grounds and, while Harvey wasn’t even halfway through, Mike had been finished the essay for over an hour with a full six inches of parchment over the minimum requirement, and was occupying himself by reading a book on potions he’d borrowed from one of the second-year students. The bookmark was wedged over halfway through by the time Harvey looked up from his essay again.

He gestured towards the book in Mike’s hands with his chin. ‘Is it true about your memory?’

Hesitantly, Mike nodded. ‘I can remember everything I read.’

‘Why don’t you tell more people?’

‘Because people treat me differently when they know for sure. It’s a game to them.’

‘Like getting you to read things and parrot them back?’

‘Mm.’ Mike moved to sit opposite Harvey at the little common room table, reaching past him to steal one of the liquorice wands he had in a paper bag next to him.

He would be lying if said he hadn’t thought in the moment to ask Mike for help; the other boy was every textbook waiting to be repeated back to him. His essay could be done in half an hour. But he was determined to not make him feel like everyone else might have done.

Harvey let him take another liquorice wand, chewing on the end of one himself, and finished the essay without Mike. When he looked up again, the other boy was asleep on the opposite side of the table, a half-eaten wand in hand and the second-year potions book lying open on the very last page.

Mike earned top marks, and Harvey earned just above eighty out of the hundred possible.

He didn’t need to use Mike to get good grades.

 

Halloween was an affair of glorious proportions.

McGonagall adorned bright orange robes for the entire day, transfiguring her head to appear as if it was a Jack-o-Lantern. Flitwick had enchanted little black paper bats to flutter up and down the classrooms and through the heights of the corridors. Professor Longbottom, along with Hagrid’s help, had supplied the Potions department with a large batch of fresh pumpkins and other ingredients to brew a delightful potion that gave anyone who drank it—male, female, or otherwise—a high-pitched stereotypical giggle not unlike that of a muggle’s idea of a witch.

Harvey had been particularly looking forward to Halloween for more than one reason; besides the spectacular feast that would be put out, he’d discovered that Mike’s birthday fell the very next day, and had plans to make it a special one.

Flying lessons had become a particular favourite class of Mike and Harvey’s. According to Madame Hooch, Mike was already displaying the skills required for a Keeper, and Harvey had been told he was an aggressive and skilled Chaser. First-years weren’t allowed their own brooms unless under specific circumstances—he’d heard Harry Potter himself had been an exception to the rule—but they were allowed books on brooms and Quidditch, and the parcel that had been dropped next to his toast plate at breakfast was hopefully something Mike would enjoy, even if he only needed to read it once.

When he got back up to his dormitory, Harvey wrapped the brand-new edition of Quidditch Through The Ages in bright blue paper with tiny broomsticks on it, then slid it underneath his bed for safe-keeping before writing a quick thank-you note to his dad for buying and sending it.

He was just done with putting it into an envelope when Mike burst through the door, hopping up and down in excitement. ‘Harvey! There’s—you have to see—they’re so small!’

‘Mike?’

‘Jenny’s cat just had kittens!’

 

The boys weren’t technically allowed into the girls dormitories. But an exception for the occasion had apparently been made for the viewing of Kit-Kat’s kittens; four little bundles were curled up and writhing against her belly as she purred loudly, chest puffed out and looking rather proud of herself as her babies fed.

Harvey reached a hand slowly out slowly, letting the mother sniff his fingers cautiously. She must have been satisfied that he was trustworthy, because a few nudges of her wet nose later, she leaned back on her blankets, almost welcomingly and blinking slowly and calmly at him as she watched him go near to the kittens.

They were all blinded, eyes not even the tiniest bit open yet, but one of them seemed particularly interested in the surroundings as it wriggled closer. Harvey ran a single finger from its forehead down to the base of its tiny tail, grinning as it stopped its squealing to enjoy the sensation before crawling on its belly back to mother.

With Mike taking his turn to say hello, Harvey turned to Jenny. ‘They’re so tiny.’

‘I know,’ she gushed, ‘they’re adorable. But I’m not sure what I’ll do with them yet. You’re only meant to bring along one animal, and now I’ve got five. It’s a lot to handle with classes.’

Both of them glanced down to Mike, watching him interact with Kit-Kat. If it hadn’t been so endearing, Harvey might have laughed; having given the kittens attention, he had turned to Kit-Kat and was rubbing the heel of his hand against her forehead, muttering to her. ‘You’re such a clever girl, bringing all these babies into the world by yourself. Yes you are—oh is that your ticklish spot? Behind your ears?’

When Kit-Kat began curling around her kittens, protecting them from the bustle, they gathered it was time to go. After a quick hug with Jenny, he disappeared down the staircase to the common room.

Harvey hung back. He turned to the pretty blonde, gesturing to the basket of blankets and balls of fuzz. ‘When they’re ready to be away from their mother, could I maybe take one? And…I think Mike said he wanted one too, but couldn’t afford it.’

Jenny tilted her head. ‘You’re a good friend to him, aren’t you?’

‘I like to think so,’ he replied.

‘He needs a friend like you. He’s had it rough, losing his parents in that crash. He hasn’t been the same since it happened, and I’m not sure that Trevor is the kind of friend who could understand.’

The more he heard about Trevor, the less Harvey liked him. ‘He doesn’t sound like he was ever much of a friend to Mike.’

‘He’s not a bad person. He’s just not very sensitive to people’s feelings when he’s joking around.’ She half-smiled. ‘But you can’t help who you like, can you?’

The hummingbirds were back. ‘No. You can’t.’


	4. A Very Happy Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters may take longer to arrive - I have a couple of chapters written, but the story isn't completely written just yet!

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, Harvey was already noting the down-turning in Mike’s mood. It was coming up to the first Christmas without his mother or father, and apparently, with his grandmother in the hospital, he wouldn’t even be able to return to a place which resembled home.

To top things off, he was in a foul mood regarding Jenny’s kittens. ‘You would have thought she would have saved one for me. She knows I wanted a cat but she said they’d all been claimed already. How unfair is that?’

‘That doesn’t seem fair,’ Harvey chimed in. From a few seats away on the opposite side of the bench, Jenny discreetly winked at him, waving the tiny package the owls had dropped to her that morning; the collar for Mike’s Christmas present had arrived.

Harvey had already staked claim to the little calico kitten in Kit-Kat’s litter; a girl he had nicknamed Maneki after the Japanese cat of luck. As for Mike’s, Jenny had let Harvey choose out of the other three, and the had finally decided on the little girl with the pure black coat; a classic witch’s cat, and a perfect companion to the talented wizard Mike had proven himself to be since day one.

Christmas eve was a strange night. The common room, usually bustling and busy with students, had only a handful of occupants besides himself, who were all sat huddled near one of the warm fireplaces and babbling on about what they hoped was in their presents in the morning.

Mike was nowhere to be seen when Harvey entered through the portrait hole. He nudged the shoulder of one of the third-years. ‘Have you seen Mike Ross?’

‘Boy who can remember stuff? I saw him head up to the dorms a few hours ago. Hasn’t come down since.’

He walked up the steps to their room, but stalled in front of the door when he heard a strange sound. Turning the handle slowly, he crept in, staring at Mike.

The other boy was snuffling into his pillow, curled up with a picture gripped in his hand. From over Mike’s torso, shuddering as he cried, Harvey could see the occupants of the still photo but didn’t even have to ask to know who was in the picture. Mr & Mrs Ross stood, holding Mike between them in front of a little house in the middle of the city.

Harvey stepped cautiously closer, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

Mike’s head turned, sobs abating. ‘Harvey.’

‘It’s the first one without them.’

His lip shook, and more tears trickled down his face. ‘I miss them so much.’

Walking up to Mike’s bed, he sat down on the edge, manoeuvring himself to be behind him. He curled an arm around Mike’s waist, pressing his cheek to the clothed shoulder in front of him, and hugged Mike tightly. ‘Have I ever told you about my dad?’

‘I think you know the answer to that question,’ Mike sniffed. The hand holding the photo moved to rest on his.

‘He’s in the department dealing with misusing muggle items. Some witches and wizards take apart muggle items and put magical components in them, like that flying Ford Anglia that everyone swears is driving around in the Forbidden Forest.

‘So one day, he decides for the purposes of “research”, to take apart a computer he found in a muggle’s back garden. The man lets him take it away, says it’s broken and can’t be fixed, so he takes it all apart, poked around with his wand on the insides, then put it all back together.’

Mike’s crying had stopped. He sniffed again. ‘So what happened?’

‘When he started, he intended for it to keep track of all confiscated enchanted muggle items, with magic automatically updating everything that goes into storage at the Ministry. It was meant to maybe in the future be an example of how muggle technology could be beneficial to our world. Instead, when he was finished, it thought it was a toaster for over an hour, before arguing with him about the state of England’s Quidditch team non-stop for two days. He tried to turn it off, but it still wouldn’t shut up, and when he tried to make it stop talking, it changed languages and kept going for another two days in Japanese.’

Mike shook in his arms, the sniffing making way for a chuckle. ‘So how did the Ministry take it?’

‘He enchanted a suitcase, put it in there, then handed it over to the Ministry to deal with as an anonymous report. To this day, he still gets his colleagues complaining it shouts the Quidditch scores from the last forty years at them when they walk past.’

That seemed to do the trick. Mike coughed a few times, choking on his own laughter, and Harvey’s joined it. When the giggles subsided, they stayed lying there together, and the last thing he thought he could remember before falling into a peaceful dream was a thumb brushing the back of his hand.

 

When he awoke the next morning on Mike’s bed, he awoke alone.

Blinking at the wall that seemed a little too close, it took him a moment to remember where he’d fallen asleep, before blushing when it came back to him.

After a quick bath in the dormitory wash-rooms, and reading a letter from one of the school owls—his brother’s messy scrawl wishing him a merry Christmas from his mother’s holiday home in Spain—he headed down into the common room with Mike’s gift in hand, to where the other students who were staying over the holidays were already opening their presents.

Mike sat alone in one of the chairs, smiling at him when he saw him approach. He handed over a box slightly smaller than his head, wrapped in paper that was covered in broomsticks flying through seasonal wreaths. ‘Merry Christmas, Harvey.’

The box was full of homemade baked goods; a variety of cookies and small decorated cakes, stained glass butter biscuits in the shapes of cauldrons, and chocolate-dipped shortbread made to look like broomsticks. Harvey smiled widely at the contents. ‘Whoa! How did you make these?’

Mike tilted his head from side to side. ‘Professor McGonagall said as long as I cleaned up afterwards, I could use the school kitchens to make them. They’re all my grandmother’s recipes, apart from the pumpkin and cherry cookies. Those are something I came up with myself.’

The knowledge Mike had gone to so much effort for his gift made the birds and butterflies come back with a vengeance. Shakily, he reached into the box and pulled out one of the pumpkin and cherry cookies, immediately salivating at the smell of cinnamon and clove emanating from them; the enchanted box had even kept them warm as if they were fresh from the oven. And they tasted even better than they looked.

He devoured two of them and one of the stained-glass cauldrons in quick succession, offering Mike one before turning to the box he’d brought with him. Mike looked curiously at the package as he crunched on one of the biscuits. ‘You didn’t have to get me anything.’

‘You didn’t have to get me anything either, but you made me all these,’ he countered, pushing Mike’s present across the table.

He wished he had a camera handy when Mike opened the lid and saw the kitten. His jaw fell slack, eyes wide, and when it let out the first tiny meow, he scooped the tiny bundle into his arms and held it close to his heart like he would never let it go.

He looked back up to Harvey, tears once again in his eyes. ‘You got one of Jenny’s kittens for me.’

‘We were saving it as a surprise.’ He jutted his chin at the kitten. ‘You thought of a name for her?’

‘I’m still trying to get my head around how you two kept this a secret from me,’ he retorted, smiling down at the purring fluff-ball. ‘And you got her a little collar.’

‘When you name her, it will automatically engrave her name in it. And if she goes missing, we’ll be able to trace her, even if she loses the collar.’

There was no need to rush to get breakfast. They sipped at one of the cups of hot chocolate that were being offered around, eating several more of Mike’s baked offerings while they played with the kittens. Maneki, who recognised her sister, immediately came up and rubbed her body and tail against Mike, before curling up on one of the arms of the chair next to him, occasionally nudging his arm for equal attention as her littermate was receiving. They thrashed two of the third years at Wizard’s Chess—the entire battle had been so messy that the board itself would need to be replaced—and Mike enchanted some origami cranes one of the fifth-year students had made to flutter around the room duelling a few bewitched paper planes until it was time to go down to Christmas lunch.

When the feast was finished, Mike and Harvey took a stroll through the grounds to walk off some of the food.

Harvey groaned. ‘I shouldn’t have eaten so much pie.’

‘Do, or do not. There is no pie.’ At his blank look, Mike looked distinctly sheepish. ‘I forgot wizards don’t have Star Wars.’

‘What’s Star Wars?’

Mike tried to roughly explain, but Harvey only half-understood some of the things he was talking about. There was mentions of some sort of laser swords, and strange character names, but he didn’t pick up on all of it. Instead, he listened to Mike’s rambling, grateful just to see him smiling from ear to ear.


	5. Valentine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with this story, and I'm still not sure if anyone really likes it. :/ But here's chapter 5.

When Harvey awoke on the fourteenth of February, he was almost positive that someone was playing some kind of trick on him until he remembered just what day it was.

Mike had already gotten up, and was nowhere to be seen. But had anyone walked in, Harvey himself was also nowhere to be seen; he was covered from head to foot in envelopes.

He edged himself out from under the covers, staring back at his sheets at the Valentines Day cards, and the owl that had apparently delivered them all; it looked exhausted, its little body puffing out like a feathery balloon. He understood exactly why it looked so disgruntled; there couldn’t have been less than than forty cards—some big, some small, some more like parcels than cards—all addressed to him.

He glanced apologetically back at it. ‘I’m sorry you had to carry all of that,’ he murmured, stroking a finger over the ruffled feathers. Placated by the attention, it preened itself for a few seconds, before flying off out of the room through the open window.

He turned down to the common room, where there were twitters and squeaks from every corner and table. Girls and boys were tearing open small packages, reading messages out loud to their friends, blushing over their gifts from their clandestine admirers as others teased. It was a silly holiday, one that didn’t even come with a day off for all the trouble it caused, and Harvey really didn’t see the point in all the fuss.

‘Harvey Specter?’ He turned to the voice’s source, and immediately one of the fourth-year students handed him a card. She grinned at him. ‘It’s not from me. It got mixed in with a package from my girlfriend in Hufflepuff. Owls don’t seem to know the difference between “Harley” and “Harvey” when the writing is smudged from the rain.’

He thanked her, and looked down at the opened card. It was a simple one, nothing like the monstrosity that a red-cheeked Jenny was opening from her Slytherin boyfriend Trevor. A heart in red and gold moved and bubbled under his fingertips like a cauldron of liquid metal. There was no absurd enchantment which sang twee poetry back at him, or—as with one that one of the sixth-year boys was cracking into—a stream of red rose petals pouring out like a floral crimson tidal wave. It was simple, clean, elegant; someone clearly knew he didn’t like a fuss. And on the inside, a small, elegant swirl of just a few short words. _You don’t know the happiness you’ve given me in just the short time we have known each other. Happy Valentines Day, Harvey._

No name.

 

He thought about the card all through his first class of the day. Potions, and the subject was, of course, love potions and their dangers. A rare day of all theory, no practice, and it didn’t take much for his mind to drift to the greeting card burning a hole in the pocket of his robes.

Mike seemed completely miserable as he pored through the book in front of him, and had been woeful since they’d had breakfast. Mike was a sweet person, and yet his own Valentines favours had amounted to nought, and it seemed to be getting him down more than expected.

Potions ended, and it was straight down to Herbology, where Professor Longbottom had thankfully avoided the holiday theme. They potted some herbs that had sprouted, and got up to their elbows in the dirt and compost as they planted fresh bulbs.

When Mike almost threw one of the bulbs into the pot, earning a squeak as it bounced right back out of the pot and hit one of their classmates in the arm, Harvey turned to him. ‘Are you alright?’

‘I’m fine. Just having a bad day.’

‘Anything I can do?’

Mike hesitated with the retrieved bulb, but quickly turned and returned to his planting. ‘It’s fine. I’ll be fine.’

The class finished without further incident, but Harvey couldn’t help but feel like there was a lot that Mike wasn’t telling him. Lunchtime came, and the other disappeared off to the library as soon as class ended.

One of the Gryffindor girls from the class pushed passed him. ‘Don’t mind him. I heard he didn’t get any Valentines day cards. Shame really, he’s quite the cutie.’

Harvey frowned. He hadn’t taken Mike for someone who would enjoy the rigamarole of the holiday.

Instead of following Mike down to the Great Hall, Harvey turned in a different direction. He needed to go find an owl.

 

Classes ended almost immediately after they started following lunch. In an attempt to show affection, one of the second-years had attempted a spell, and it had hilariously backfired; instead of flowers blooming everywhere the object of their affection walked, it had somehow begun to sprout vines that had begun tripping everybody over, and giant pink flowers that giggled each time someone went cascading onto their bottoms on the floor and bellowed ‘Did you just fall for me?’ at its victims. Lessons for the rest of the day were cancelled, and the students were instructed to stay in their dormitories until the issue was appropriately fixed.

With the rabble in the common room, Harvey retreated up to his room to get away from the noise, and found Mike sitting there, looking considerably calmer than he had been.

He smiled as soon as Harvey entered the room. ‘I know what you did.’

He smiled back sheepishly. ‘I thought you needed a little pick-me-up.’

It had been a rush gift, but it had clearly made all the difference. A simple ‘Happy Valentines Day, Mike. —Harvey’ written on a piece of scrap parchment, accompanied by something Harvey had been saving for a future present for him; the pot of colour-changing ink and smooth metal and wood-tipped quill was going to be a present for writing to each other during the summer. But that didn’t matter; Mike was smiling again.

As Mike played with his new quill and ink, Harvey began shuffling through the gifts and cards littering his bed. They were exactly where he’d left them that morning, although one or two had a few chew marks in them; Maneki was proudly curled up on his pillow with her nose buried in both her paws and the cotton below. He opened each of them, frowning at a few; one was from one of the second-year Slytherin girls, and included a lewd disproportioned sketch of what he assumed was meant to be a pin-up in nought but a wide-brimmed witch hat. It was quickly relegated to the bottom of the bin. Another was a bright purple heart that was enchanted to beat eerily under his touch. The item made him uncomfortable, and it also found its way to the base of the bin. One or two were rather nice; he had one from one of their classmates which was a little cheesy, but the sentiment had been there; she had sent one to several of the boys, so he was sure she wouldn’t be too disappointed he didn’t return her affections.

The one that was still bothering him was the one that had been handed to him in the common room. There was something about it that kept pulling him back. He knew who he wanted it to be from, but he felt as if that was highly unlikely; Mike was his friend, and couldn’t possibly think of him in that way.

‘This ink is incredible. It’s so fluid and pretty,’ Mike stated, grinning. ‘I wish I could write my essays with this.’

Harvey nodded. ‘I wish I could too. Would make it a lot more interesting when Professor Binns starts droning.’

Mike nodded, then cleared his throat as he drew a large ‘M’ in the ink, which had turned a shade not dissimilar to his eyes. ’So…any Valentines gifts you liked?’

‘Mm, there’s one. It’s just a card, but it’s the message in it…’ He reached into the pocket of his robes, pulling it out and waving it in Mike’s direction. ‘No name, though.’

Mike’s face seemed to shift, tensing, before he turned back to the parchment he was doodling on. The ink had changed again; copper, gold, electrum, silver all swirled in the drawn girl’s hair, and the one eye Mike had drawn for her winked back. ‘That’s a really sweet message.’

He ran his fingers over the front of the card, nodding. ’I’d really like to know who sent it so I can thank them.’

They fell silent. Mike continued drawing, and Harvey cleared the gifts away from his bed. Besides a box of mini cauldron cakes from his brother back home, the rest were all very similar in nature with their message with nothing that stood out as particularly special, and he packed them away in his trunk for dealing with later. The one he had showed Mike, however, returned to his pocket. Something was familiar about it, but he couldn’t figure out just what it was.

Afternoon turned into evening, and finally a message spread across the dormitories; the magical vines had been cleared, and it was safe to go down to dinner unimpeded by plant tripwires.

Mike put the quill away, stopping to give Harvey a hug, blushing and mumbling a quiet ‘Thank you, Harvey’ before he raced out of the room at top speed. Harvey hung back, staring at the page he had left behind on his sheets.

The paper was absolutely covered in writing and doodles. There were stylised letters and random words in tidy, practiced calligraphy all over. The girl, now a pretty mermaid with shimmering scales, swam about in the rainbow swirls of sea, occasionally pausing to wave at him with a webbed hand and float resting her arms on the ledges of writing. He glanced at the lettering again, and his heart almost stopped dead.

With shaky fingers, he reached into his pocket and retrieved the card and let it fall open. Tracing the shape of the H in Harvey, he blinked from the page to the card, noting the identical flourishes.

The Valentines card had been from Mike.


	6. Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so tired. I have been out nearly every evening for an entire week, and my birthday was on Monday so I've been trying to get as much stuff done as possible so I can use my new presents. I need a holiday...
> 
> There really aren't going to be too many more chapters to this, but I hope they're alright.

Valentines day passed slowly, but the weeks afterwards seem to flash away from him like a blink. Before he knew where the time had gone, it was almost the end of March, and end-of-year exams were growing ever closer. Time apparently flew when trying to deal with unspoken feelings.

He flicked his wand, trying to concentrate on the new transfiguration spell they were meant to be learning. He’d been attempting and failing miserably to make the little white teacup with orchids on the side turn into a white mouse for nearly ten minutes, and the most he’d managed was to make the handle slim down and wiggle like a tail. On what felt like the fiftieth attempt to make it turn, he sighed and glanced to his side. ‘Any luck?’

‘Nothing.’ Mike poked at the cup before him with the tip of his own want. Even he was struggling; the green floral monstrosity of a cup before him was still green and cup-shaped, but had grown a thin coat of velvety fur that bristled every time he jabbed at it. Mike put his wand and head down on the table and groaned. ‘If this is what we have to do in an exam, we’re boned.’

By the end of the lesson, they’d had a little bit more success; Mike’s had finally wiggled to life and taken on a form that was more mouse-shaped, even if it was still green and covered in tiny pink camellias. Harvey’s had similarly made it to mouse-shapedness, but as it moved around the table, there had been the awful sound of porcelain scraping porcelain as it ran from one edge to the other.

As they made their way down to the grounds to wait for their flying lesson to begin, Harvey discreetly observed Mike. Since matching the handwriting to him, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. He had changed Mike’s life? It didn’t feel like he was capable of that.

They turned the corner towards the doors to the grounds. Mike hadn’t claimed penmanship over the card. Maybe he had been joking around. But it didn’t feel like Mike to do so; with the emotional whiplash one of his so-called friends already provided, and with Jenny doing her best to split her time between her friend and her boyfriend, it didn’t seem like something which he would use to jest or tease. His conclusions were one of several—that Mike had a strong feeling of friendly attachment to him, or that Mike had as much of a crush on him as Harvey had in return. The latter…he hoped it was the latter.

They reached the middle of the grounds quicker than he’d expected. Turning to the log next to the area, Mike dumped his back and greeted Madam Hooch, and they immediately launched into a discussion about good starter broom models for Quidditch trials the following year.

It said something about Mike that he had such a rapport with certain teachers; Madam Hooch was known for her hard edges, her sharp voice, and for generally not being one to become too friendly with even her favourite students. But Mike seemed to be an exception, and she appeared to have developed a soft spot for him that nobody else seemed to be able to touch on. When Harvey had asked him about it, Mike had shrugged, smiling. ‘She’s not exactly the same, but some of the stuff she says…she’s no-nonsense. It reminds me of my Grammy.’

Harvey could have hugged him right there and then if they hadn’t have been in the middle of Charms at the time.

He dropped his bag next to Mike’s, and looked from broom to broom for the one he liked. They were all beaten up and grubby, but there was one that he liked to try and get every time; it had two initials in the handle, and he knew exactly who had carved them. His dad had always liked personalising what he liked.

The lesson began, and Madam Hooch had them throwing a quaffle around between them. ‘By the time you get into your second year, I want your balance to be so good that a bludger could knock you on your side and you’ll ping straight back up to sitting upright!’ She barked, and one of the other boys jumped so badly he almost dropped the ball on one of the girls’ heads.

Mike flew slightly closer, nudging him in the side from his own broom. ‘You that good?’

He grinned back. ‘Better. You going to go in for the trials next year?’

‘Definitely. You should try as a reserve Keeper.’

‘I will. You going to be one of the Chasers?’

‘I hope so,’ Harvey caught the quaffle one-handed, flinging it easily to one of the girls on the other side of the ring, ‘With you guarding, and me scoring, Gryffindor would win for the next six years without fail, snitch or no snitch.’

Mike laughed as the ball came his way. Instead of catching, he deftly deflected it at one of their classmates, who yelped and fumbled with it until it fell down onto the grass. Donna, the girl who had previously caught the ball from Harvey, swooped down and snatched it back up before flinging it to someone else.

He gestured in her direction with a thumb. ’You, me, and Donna on the quidditch team next year?’

‘Definitely,’ she called from the other end of the ring.

 

Later, settled on their stomachs in the common room, the study felt like it was never-ending. He was sure he had read the same paragraph ten times, and none of it was sticking. Having Mike’s brain would have been a gift at that moment.

Turning to complain to Mike, he stopped in his tracks the second he looked around. Mike had gone and fallen asleep on his parchment again, quill still gripped in his fist and the rainbow ink staining the side of his hand. It was later than late, and without realising it, the common room around them had completely emptied save for them at the centre. He nudged him gently, but Mike was truly out for the count.

Biting his lip, Harvey reached forward and slid the quill out of his hand, putting it to the side, then balled up his discarded robes and slipped them under Mike’s head as a pillow. He looked so peaceful, more than he had for days. All the extra work leading up to their end of year exams had really been taking their toll, even on someone with a memory like his. It was nice to see him relaxed again.

He couldn’t quite help himself. Heart racing, Harvey leaned down until his face was next to Mike’s. So close, he could see the pores on his skin, the soft lines of where he’d fallen asleep on his page pressed into the apple of his cheek, each individual eyelash reflecting the dance of the flames in the fireplace. Leaning in, Harvey chewed his lip, then planted both of them onto Mike’s smooth forehead.

When Mike stirred ten minutes later and headed up to bed, Harvey stayed where he was for a long time, stomach doing somersaults, and a hand pressed tightly to his burning lips.


	7. Wide Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the delay in getting another chapter out - the last month or so has been an unmitigated pile of chaos from beginning to end.
> 
> I hope whoever is still reading this enjoys the chapter.

March melted into April, and April into May, and the heat of the summer arrived a full month early.

Unfortunately end-of-year exams were just weeks away, and nobody had time for anything more than groaning about said exams.

Harvey waved his wand, swishing it and pointing it at the lock on the middle of the table. ‘Alohomora!’

The lock wiggled, but stayed closed.

He tried again. ’Alohomora!’ That time it gave a loud thunk and a click, popping open and falling onto its side.

Professor Flitwick clapped loudly, a cheer going up through the class; Harvey was only the third one in the classroom who had managed to get the lock open with only a few tries. ‘Well done! Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr. Specter!’

Mike clapped him on the arm as soon as he got back to his seat. ‘I knew you’d get it.’

‘Eventually. I was up late practicing.’

‘I know. I heard you whispering,’ Mike winked.

Harvey flushed. ‘Sorry. I didn’t keep you up, did I?’

A shrug. ’I couldn’t sleep anyway. One of the problems having a brain that retains information like mine…sometimes it doesn’t want to switch off when you want it to.’ He smiled sheepishly. ‘To be honest, your talking to yourself helped.’

When Charms ended, and they began making their way down to the dungeons for Potions, Harvey played over the moment from a few months ago over and over in his head. It had only been a forehead kiss; innocent, and chaste. But the fact that Mike had been asleep at the time, unable to say no if he had wanted to, still flooded him with guilt. What if Mike really hadn’t meant anything by the Valentines card? Friends and family sent each other gifts sometimes—his brother had sent him a gift—so maybe Mike hadn’t meant it like a traditional Valentine.

His heart sank. Maybe that was what Mike had meant to imply; that he was like a brother to him.

Harvey sat down in his seat in the Potions classroom, glumly opening his book to the page he would be working from. They would be doing a mock exam that day, so no working with Mike to get it right; the other had taken up residence on the adjacent bench with his own cauldron, and was already checking the ingredients out on the table.

It was always amazing watching Mike work in the classroom. He was a natural wizard; from day one, he had known just how to chop the ingredients right, when to follow the book and when to not, and just the right time to stop stirring and say that it was done. As the beginning of the mock test was called, and they began work, Mike was already flitting from one part of his desk to another, throwing each ingredient in with a flourish of someone far more experienced and many years his senior. The old pureblood ideology truly was a load of rubbish; Mike had ten times the skill and talent that some of the purest of pure bloodlines had in them.

Distractedly, Harvey fumbled his own way through the class, barely scraping it together at the end; the potion definitely wasn’t the colour it was meant to be (bright blue instead of deep red), but it smelled right, and still did a weak approximation of what it was meant to; the plant in the pot next to his cauldron didn’t quite go into full bloom, but a few of the buds became larger and began to open up a little. He earned a seven-out-of-ten for his efforts, but with notes to use less powdered lavender flowers next time.

Mike’s worked flawlessly, glimmering just the right shade of red and emitting a low amaranthine glow. When it was applied to his own plant, the tea-roses blossomed forth without hesitation, filling the air in the dungeon with sweet floral scent that overtook the usual unpleasant fug of dampness. He earned another ten points to Gryffindor for the House Cup, and yet another grumpy look from one of the Ravenclaws on one of the nearby desks whose own potion had been an unmitigated disaster from beginning to end.

It probably didn’t help that the ten points had brought them just thirty points away from winning the house cup that year.

With no classes left, as soon as Potions was over, Harvey began wandering up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room. But he didn’t get far before Mike grabbed him by the forearm, frowning back at him. ‘Hey…I was calling your name.’

He shook his head. ‘Sorry. I was in a bit of a daze.’

Mike’s frown lessened, but didn’t disappear completely. He tugged him down the corridor by his arm, and into the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom before turning to him again. ‘You’ve been acting strangely for weeks. Please, tell me what’s going on?’

At Mike’s intense gaze, Harvey blinked away, guilt boiling. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘Please, Harvey…tell me,’ Mike pleaded.

Reluctantly, he looked back, and swallowed thickly. ‘I know you sent me that Valentines Day card.’

The hand that was on his forearm fell away. Mike looked down at his feet. ‘Oh.’

‘I saw your writing with the rainbow ink, and the writing on the card, and figured it out.’

Mike shifted uncomfortably. ’Harvey, I’m sorry.’

‘No…I’m sorry.’ Now or never. ‘After that, you took a nap while we were studying a few weeks after Valentines Day, and I kissed you. I kissed your forehead. I know I shouldn’t have, but…I’ve liked you for a long time and—‘ he halted before he could finish the rest. — _I just wanted to kiss you goodnight_.

It was his turn to look away. Mike’s head shot up, eyes boring into his and with a shocked expression.

Harvey glanced away to the floor, chewing his lip. ‘I’m sorry. Please, don’t hate me.’

The room was silent, the air thick around them. After a few minutes that felt like hours each, Mike’s hand found its way back to his forearm, sliding up to his elbow. ‘Hey…look at me.’

The beating of wings in his stomach at a violent peak, Harvey tilted his head back up, forcing their eyes to meet.

And it was then that Mike, his own face seventeen variants of crimson, leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his left cheek.


	8. In The Wake Of Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise if this feels unfinished. It's not so much that I've lost enthusiasm for Marvey. I just seem to have lost all steam with writing in general. It almost feels as if I'm not doing it for me anymore.
> 
> There was going to be another chapter, but it felt a little bit forced, so I thought I'd leave it here. Hopefully my brain will let me come up with something a little deeper next time, and hopefully I'll be back with something else sometime soon.
> 
> Hope anyone still reading enjoys.

It was as if the entire school had become a lighter place as soon as exams were over.

The library remained mostly deserted, save for a few students who had to do retakes. The classes were growing less serious, less intense, and more fun-filled in the lead-up to the summer holidays, and even Madam Hooch’s flying lessons had become playful as she taught them more advanced techniques for Quidditch before the tryouts at the beginning of the second year. Between himself and their new friend Donna putting themselves forward as Chasers, and Mike signing up to try as a reserve Keeper, Harvey was looking forward to the next school year almost as much as he was looking forward to a summer free of lessons.

And then there was Mike visiting to look forward to as well.

Nobody really seemed that surprised when they walked into the common room hand-in-hand for the first time. A few of their classmates wolf-whistled, Jenny had cooed and squeaked happily, and Donna had nodded and grinned before accepting a small pile of Galleons from several scowling second-years. The only downside was the separation that had followed; upon the word getting out about their budding romance, Mike had understandably been swapped from their current dormitory with one of the other boys. Harold wasn’t as fun to talk to as Mike, and permanently seemed to be on the verge of falling to pieces at every turn, but Harvey found his new dorm-mate wasn’t all that bad, if a little neurotic and jumpy. He played a mean game of Wizard’s Chess, at very least.

Harvey missed Mike’s company a lot.

The night before the train home, they curled up together in one of the plush oversized armchairs in the common room. It was definitely too warm to be sat in the same chair, but he didn’t mind; too soon, he would have to wait until the last two weeks of the holidays to see Mike, and he wanted to savour the hugs while he could.

Mike rubbed his cheek against his shoulder. ‘What do you think playing Quidditch will actually be like? I mean, with the bludgers flying around?’

Harvey laughed. ‘Scary. Those things can break your arm, or knock you out.’

Mike curled closer. ‘If we make it onto the team, please be careful?’

‘I will, but you have to promise me the same thing.’

Lips brushed his cheek. ‘I promise.’

‘Ugh…’ The voice made them both turn their heads.

Donna stood next to the chair in tartan pyjamas printed with puppies, face contorted. ‘You two are sickeningly sweet. It’s making my teeth hurt.’

Harvey felt the heat rise in Mike’s cheeks, his own quick to follow suit. ‘Shut up. You’re just annoyed because that Hufflepuff boy hurt your feelings.’

‘Please. Like that idiot could hurt me. I’m Donna,’ she snorted, sinking down onto the floor next to the chair.

Mike nudged her shoulder with a socked foot. ‘I heard a rumour that one of the Ravenclaws was the one that sent you the Every-Flavour Beans in your Valentines gifts.’

She whipped around, eyes widening. ‘Which Ravenclaw?’

‘Louis?’

‘Louis Litt?’ She blanched.

Mike frowned. ‘I know he’s not the most charismatic. But for the harsh things he sometimes says in class, he’s actually nice once you get to know him.’

Harvey sighed. ‘As much as I want to argue, Mike’s right. He heard one of the other Ravenclaws was struggling with money around Christmas time, and even though he’s Jewish and doesn’t celebrate it, he bought and wrapped up everything they’d need to finish the year and gifted it to them.’

‘And he’s a good artist. Ask to see his sketches of a chimaera when you see him,’ Mike added.

While she didn’t look entirely convinced, some colour returned to Donna’s face. She shrugged, and rested her head against the chair. ‘Okay, he doesn’t sounds as bad as I thought. But still, I’ve only spoken to him a few times.’

‘I heard from Professor Flitwick that next year, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors are going to have more classes together due to the scheduling,’ Harvey teased. ‘You’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.’

Something hit Harvey square in the nose. He glanced down to his lap, looking at the balled up parchment that had landed there, and narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Uncalled for.’

Donna stood up, brushing herself off with a smirk. ‘That’s your opinion. I’m going to bed.’

When she had gone, he looked to the room around them. The common room had emptied, with only a few students—mostly cosied-up couples—left chatting tiredly.

Harvey had to wonder whether all the times that he and Mike had been the last ones left in the room had been leading up to their own coupling. Even when not in the common room, it hadn’t been out of the ordinary to be up late on the weekends, whispering to each other in the darkness about anything and nothing to well past two AM. They shared everything together, studied together, and even long before Valentines day, they had always been more tactile with each other than most of their friends were, sharing closer proximity even when not touching.

Maybe under the surface, they had been a little bit inevitable.

When they finally couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer, he walked Mike to his door and bid him goodnight with a kiss on the cheek. But as he went to turn to his own, a hand on his wrist stopped him.

Mike’s cheeks were even brighter red than he’d ever seen them. He leaned forward. Their eyes closed in tandem as they moved forward together.

His first kiss was barely a second long, and a simple press of soft lips on his own. But the sensation chased him as he fell into a happy dream, and lingered long after he awoke the next morning.

Those two weeks in the summer couldn’t come quick enough.


End file.
